could n't even speak of her to me or any other woman that you knew well. When I asked you about her, though you were too much of a man of honor to tell me a lie, you were not too much of a man of honor to act one. You gave her father money, but you were ashamed to acknowledge that you even knew her."
"We've had enough of this conversation," he said, now trembling with rage. "Let it end."
He turned to leave the room, but Letitia's voice arrested him, and he stood with his back to her, listening.
"You ought to have known enough to trust her," she continued desperately, for she was singing the swan-song of her hopes. "You 've only got to look into her face to see what she is. No matter what people say about her and her father, no matter what silly stories are repeated, even if there were other men who gave the colonel money—"
Letitia stopped. Gault had wheeled suddenly round upon her, and the expression of his face made the words die on her lips.
"Other men!" he repeated. "Who said that?"
"Tod," she faltered.
"Who were they?"
"I—I—don't know; he did n't tell their names."
"What did he say?"
"He said—he said—" she stammered, bewil-
